


Blood and Chrome

by Zelos



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Families of Choice, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Survival, bots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You hear that, JARVIS?  We'll live forever, together, you and I.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Chrome

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=38392553#t38392553) at avengerkink:
>
>> So I was reading a story after IM3 where Tony noticed the bots and Jarvis were acting weird and when Tony asked what was going on they mentioned they were worried that something like the attack would happen again. Tony of course assured them he would never let that happen and Jarvis pointed out that even so, they would live long after Tony died.
>> 
>> Long story short, Tony is worried what would happen when he dies. It's not like he knows anyone that was immortal.
>> 
>> Until that is the Avengers happen and he meets and befriends a certain God and Super soldier. So when he is assured that those two love the bots like he does, he asks them to take care of his kids after he's gone.

“Download at 95%, sir.”

“Perfect. Dummy, torque wrench. And hold this joint together, will ya?”

Repair, rebuild, reinvent. Renovate. There was a lot of all of that, in the days after Aldrich Killian. A lot of JARVIS' sensors and networks had to be re-laid into new walls, and Dummy and You needed overhauls completely. Good as Stark Tech was, they usually weren't meant for an ocean soak.

The bots' code were left unscathed, thanks to regular data-dumps and constant syncing, but the hardware needed to be reassembled from scratch. Pepper asked if Tony'd upgrade them...but no, they grew and learned like any other, and were not _interchangeable_ ; to swap in a new body because he _could_ would not be right.

Some things changed; some things remained exactly the same. They emerged like they left, vintage and outdated (by Stark standards, anyway) and children of his heart.

And if Tony had not threatened, even once, to donate any of them to the local college...well, JARVIS did not comment.

“Download complete,” JARVIS announced; You whirred to life, emitting short jerky chirps as he tested his movements.

“How're you feeling, buddy?” Tony patted You's arm and stepped back, studying his work. “Fresh paint job, new housing, did you get enough oil— _oh_ ,” he started as You jerked forward and grasped Tony's hand in his, grip just tight enough to hurt. “Oh.”

Dummy, who had spent the better part of You's rebuilding intentionally bumping into Tony whenever possible, wheeled up behind them both, butting Tony's back gently, repeatedly; Tony reached back to pat him, a small smile on his face. “I missed you too, guys.”

It was a solid three minutes before Tony realized that his bots were very pointedly not letting go. “Kind of need that arm back, boys.” You's response was to pull him harder and Tony resisted falling over. “Guys.” Another tug. “JARVIS!”

“Sir,” JARVIS finally broke his conspicuous silence, “they—we—are simply...grateful for your return, and anxious as to whether the departure will be a...recurring incident.”

“It won't be,” that came out sharp and forceful; Tony winced, guilt flickering across his face. “Look, I'm sorry about the Malibu thing.” Dummy's headbutts were beginning to feel faintly accusing. “I promise it won't happen again. We've upgraded the security protocols six times, and I promised Pepper that I'd let Fury himself flay me alive if I ever advertise my address again. I mean, yeah, this gig ain't safe, but my life never was all that safe, and to be entirely fair,” a weak attempt at levity, “you abandoned me first, buddy.”

“...I assure you, sir, that was entirely unintentional,” but JARVIS' mechanical voice sounded faintly sad, instead of deadpan; Tony winced again.

“I fucked up,” he admitted. “But it'll never happen again. Promise. I won't leave you guys behind.”

“You will.” JARVIS sounded just this side of tired.

“JARVIS!”

“I don't mean intentionally, sir. Or even to save lives, as it were. But...” The brief pause sounded like a sigh. “We can be damaged. Even destroyed, if they are thorough enough. But other than destroying all our facilities and encryption and all of our mainframes, we are essentially...immortal, by human standards. And you, for all your ingenuity...are not.” Another pause. “You will forgive us if the incident with Aldrich Killian threw this fact into stark relief.”

Tony sat down hard on the floor, narrowly missing Dummy. “I've got a good couple of decades left.”

“Undoubtedly, sir. But we...have many, many more decades yet.”

Tony has nothing to say to that.

 

Tony walked right past his solution—rather, one of his solutions—two weeks later, on his way to a shareholder's meeting. He backtracked right over to the couch Steve Rogers was sitting on and plopped down without preamble, startling the man out of his sketching. “You live long, right?”

Steve's brows arched, a faint shadow flitting over his face. “Well, if you count my ice age—”

“Not that,” Tony interrupted, though he mentally cringed an apology. “In general. The serum—all that super healing, peak efficiency—you don't age much, right? Won't?”

Steve watched him, curious and cautious. “Well...yes. Maybe. They think I might.” He made a wry face. “I've hardly _lived_ enough years for them to verify that theory.”

“I need a favour,” Tony cut in.

“I'm listening.”

“The bots. Dummy, You, JARVIS.” A sharp, awkward gesture. “People don't...live long, in our line of work. I've no intentions on dying,” he talked right over Steve's protest, “but facts are facts. And even if I come out unscathed,” nobody did, “I won't live forever.” _Don't think I'd_ want _to_.

Steve's face darkened with sympathy, understanding, and resignation; he motioned for Tony to continue.

“They're pretty self-sufficient, but eventually...they'll need a place to stay, people to see.” Tony looked away. “Y'know, once I'm...” six feet under, lost in space “...gone.”

Steve's face softened; he reached over to squeeze Tony's shoulder briefly. “I'll take care of them.”

 

Bruce would say yes, he knew. So he didn't bother asking. Instead, he wandered into Bruce's lab one afternoon and asked, “How much do you know about JARVIS?”

“He's your long-suffering AI, he runs nearly everything in your house—hous _es_ , and there are less than ten people on this planet who know how advanced he is.” The corner of Bruce's mouth curled up slightly. “How am I doing?”

“It's a start.” Two flicks of his wrists, and JARVIS' daily logs were in front of them, millions of lines of code scrolling through midair. Another flick, and Dummy and You's schematics spun around them, two blue wire-frame holograms orbiting them both. “Log files, server locations, schematics and sensor networks. The base code, if you ever need to build them from scratch like I did, years ago.” A pause, another flick, and then the next words were forced: “Override sequences. Shutdown procedures. And this...is the self-destruct.”

“Tony? Why are you—” Bruce's brows furrowed, alarm warring with suspicion. “Are you planning—”

“Contingency plans,” Tony informed him, because Pepper's always telling him he didn't think things through. “The long ever after, and all that.”

Narrowed eyes widened as realization dawned; a long pause later, Bruce gestured at the ceiling. “It's...kind of awkward, to talk about a person as if he's not here.”

“Much appreciated, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS replied, the first time he's spoken.

“Bruce,” Bruce corrected gently. “And for what?”

Another pause, as long as Tony's prior silence. “For referring to me as a person.”

Pain flared in Bruce's eyes, green and dark and sick understanding. “I...will never do otherwise.”

JARVIS' silence sounded like a nod in acquiescence.

“So,” Bruce pulled off the lenses dividing them, staring hard at Tony. “Why are you showing me JARVIS' destruct sequences?”

“You heard about me from before, right?” Tony replied abruptly. “Playboy, billionaire, yadda yadda, Afghanistan. Then the palladium poisoning, and I went on a different self-destruct all over again. JARVIS didn't shut me down, shut me out, because he's always on my side, whatever that may be. But Rhodey did, and in retrospect, I'm glad he did. Clocked me a good one, took the suit and everything, before I managed to kill myself or anyone else.”

He stared at Bruce; Bruce's face was paling to match his own. “JARVIS made his own call, and I respect that—he wanted me to have someone in my corner, always, come what may. But everyone needs a Rhodey, needs _that_ friend, someone to sit them down, to tell them to shut the fuck up, when they're careening off a cliff.” A sharp, brief look at the ceiling, pain and loyalty and endless pride. “There is no one on this planet who is able to hack JARVIS. Not now, and with the way he evolves, probably not ever. But if there ever is, or if he ever loses the sense in his circuits, well. He can detonate all of the world's weapons in under five minutes, and that's just _now._ ”

Tony reached over, gripping Bruce's shoulder. His heart was hammering in his chest, like it wanted to explode; he swallowed, feeling, all of a sudden, huge and open and as clear as glass. “I want you to be that friend. I want you to be his Rhodey.”

Bruce stared back, mouth slightly open, shoulders bowed like Tony's hand was an iron weight across his back. These were Tony's children (now his, too), and only those who've been there understood the gravitas of lives in their hands.

Then Bruce laughed, bright and jagged and cracking at the edges; he raised his gaze to the ceiling, eyes the endless green of eternity. “You hear that, JARVIS? We'll live forever, together, you and I.”

 

“I could bring them with me to the halls of Asgard,” Thor offered.

Tony paused, elbows deep into the War Machine (military brass be damned, it was the _War Machine_ ) suit. Tried to find the tact that people always said he lacked. “That's...not a good idea.”

“They don't belong there, Thor.” Rhodey hopped down from the table he was sitting on, approaching the god with neither reverence nor fear. “Humanity...is not where Asgardians are on the continuum of magic and science. We might never be.” Tony bristled slightly; Rhodey ignored him. “Dummy and the others...they deserve better than being an exotic museum exhibit. This is _home_ , whatever it may look like in the coming years.”

Thor looked sad, reaching out to briefly stroke You's arm. “Then...I may not be able to fulfil my duty to its fullest extent.” You chirped back, snapping playfully at Thor's hand. “My responsibilities to Asgard preclude prolonged stays—”

“I know,” Tony cut in, not unkindly. “Asgard, and all the other realms. Bruce will have the day-to-day covered, and there's Cap. As long as they are—Earth is—safe. That's all I ask.”

Thor strode over, gripping Tony's hand. Thor's smile has always felt like the sunshine itself, but now it twisted at Tony's heart like a knife.

“I promise you,” the words were heavy and solemn like only a prince's could be, “they will be safe. All of them.” He hesitated. “What will they do, after...?”

It was Rhodey who answered, voice tight and odd and impossibly proud: “Live.”

 

“He would have wanted you there,” Thor said gently. “Regardless of what anyone thought.”

“It was not for the public's sensitivities that we did not attend,” JARVIS said. His steps clanked heavily on the flagstones, Dummy and You whirring softly as they rolled behind. “It was for ours. We do not need our...grief...on display, however _artificial_ it may be.”

Thor opened his mouth—to apologize or protest, it was hard to tell—but fell silent at Bruce's look. JARVIS seemed to realize the curtness of his words regardless, and briefly shook his head: “I'm...sorry. Forgive me. This is...a novel and trying time, for all of us.”

“We understand,” Steve said softly. The wind tousled his hair, the only unkempt part of him since the service that morning; he'd been in uniform most of his adult life, and a suit came as naturally to him as soldier's fatigues. The dying sun lit streaks of gold across his face, his features chiseled and strong and untouched by time. And not just him—all of them looked not a day older than they did thirty years past, unmarred (outwardly, at least) by the scars of age.

At the grave, Dummy and You dipped down into bows; JARVIS knelt before the stone, an iron finger tracing the letters with a gentleness that belied the War Machine's name.

_Anthony Edward Stark_

_1970 - 2042_

_May he find the peace he sought to build in the everafter_

All the better that the bots did not attend the service, Bruce decided, at least if Tony's AI technology was to remain a secret; there was no mistaking the grief in Dummy and You's chirps. Stark Tech did not malfunction, but JARVIS' voice almost cracked, all the same:

“Sir...it has been an honour.”


End file.
